


Works of Art

by alamerysl



Series: The Slash Game [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, M/M, Ridiculous, seriously cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamerysl/pseuds/alamerysl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort gives Annatar a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Works of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Written in less than 10 minutes for the Slash Game, in which someone picks a character and a premise, and then we pick a character and write cracky fic with a ridiculous pairing.

Annatar looked curiously at this snake-faced man whose words had been alarmingly convincing. Enough for Annatar to agree to a first date with this not-quite-mortal on a whim.

“Well, I am here,” he told his companion. “What did you have in mind?”

Here was a dusty mansion, a crumbling relic of times past, reminding its inhabitants of past glory never to be reached again. If Annatar found it odd that Voldemort had greeted him upon a rusty throne with green velvet cushions, he did not say anything.

“Many thingsssss,” Voldemort hissed. “But none of them appropriate for a first date. Exccccept thisssss…”

With a flick of that odd stick – similar to an Istari’s staff of power but much smaller – the curtains pulled back and sound came rushing in.

In front of Annatar was the bloodiest, most gruesome torture fest he had ever laid his eyes on.

It surpassed anything he had known before – Morgorth’s corruption of the Firstborn into the deformed Orcs, the Fëanorian Oath twisting noble intentions into dark shadows that tainted their souls, even his own betrayal and torment of poor, trusting Tyelpe.

A man was laid out in front of them, hands pinned to the ceiling. Drips of blood fell down the man’s face like tears of blood. There were all sorts of implements stuck in his body – knives, sticks, pieces of parchment.

It was utterly horrid.

It was the most beautiful thing Annatar had ever seen.

“Is that – “ Annatar asked breathlessly.

“It’sss all for you, my ssssweeet,” Voldemort practically purred, highly satisfied at the visceral reaction his unexpected gift had coaxed out of Annatar. “I took the liberty of warming it up for you, but it is your masterpiece to mold now.”

The man’s whimpers of pain and desolate gaze was so reminiscent of Celebrimbor’s last moments that Annatar could feel his heart pounding in excitement, growing hard at the thought of what he could create from this beautiful, writhing mass of tortured flesh.

“How did you know?” Annatar turned to face Voldemort. “You dear man, how did you know?”

“It was your eyessssss. They told me everything I needed to know-urgh”

Annatar could no longer hold back. He lunged for Voldemort and kissed those thin lips. Voldemort responded with a moan and Annatar took the opportunity to plunder the depths of that beautiful, glorious mouth.

Annatar rubbed his hard, aching length against Voldemort’s stick thin body, feeling the arousal course through his body.


End file.
